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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23814466">A Very Real Number</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterinpink/pseuds/thewriterinpink'>thewriterinpink</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Abridged Thiefshipping Long Fics [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Denial of Feelings, Desperation, First Meetings, First Time, Frottage, Gay Panic, Kissing, Love at First Sight, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Public Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:21:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23814466</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterinpink/pseuds/thewriterinpink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where timers written in gold are wrapped around one's wrist, counting down to the day they will one day meet their true love, Bakura believes his time will never come while Marik clings desperately to the truth that his will.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Yami Bakura/Marik Ishtar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Abridged Thiefshipping Long Fics [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1368523</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Very Real Number</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is another one of those stories I wrote a long time ago and never posted. For this one, it was because I thought it wasn't finished yet and more needed to be written for it, but after looking at it again I'm finally admitting defeat. I don't think I'll ever write anymore for this idea and the ending doesn't seem as abrupt to me as I was convinced it was, so it's likely that the story has run its course and I need to let go of it. That's why I'm finally posting it today. Well, that and because I desire to share it with others instead of letting it grow dust in my documents. </p><p>What I like about this story is that it gave me an opportunity to write moments before thiefshipping meet. I find both of their pasts so fascinating and fun to recreate. There's a lot of empty space to write your own thing considering we don't get to see what it was like, especially for Bakura. Also, I got to play around with my belief that in the abridged universe, unlike the canon, Bakura actually possessed a lot of different people throughout his existence and lived through a lot of it. The reason I believe this is because it's canon that Bakura went to a higher educational school—college or university, I can't remember—and I don't agree that he would do that in Ryou's body. His past with Slenderman seems to be way farther in the past than in Ryou's time, to be honest. This is also why I believe Bakura has a lot of sexual experience under his belt. Feel free to disagree, but that's how I see it.</p><p>As far as characterization goes, this story answers the burning question of what Marik would be like during a sex scene if he was still in the 'pretend to not be gay' stage of his development. Since I felt compelled to tag this story as 'desperation', I think you can see how this one goes down for him lol. It also explains a scenario where it would be possible for Bakura to get believable wankers cramp ;). Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>5012 years, 256 days, 5 hours, 42 minutes and 3 seconds.</p><p> </p><p>An arbitrary number. An impossible number. A very <em>real</em> number, something that couldn’t be forgotten or erased over time. It stained his right wrist in gold, searing into his flesh in a way that made it unmistakable. A peculiar number, but a very typical scenario. Everyone had soul marks.</p><p> </p><p>There was someone out there for everyone, but apparently not for Bakura. Even at such a young age, he was greatly aware the number far succeeded any age possible to live. He’d die far before it would pass the first thousand. So would his soulmate.</p><p> </p><p>They would never meet. At least, not <em>alive</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Or maybe they would. Maybe it was simply... broken. He had never heard of such a thing, but his village was small and far from the larger villages, not to mention the world was vast. Maybe this was something that could happen. Maybe there was someone out there with a similar impossible number.</p><p> </p><p>He partly hoped so. It would be easier to find his soulmate if their soul marks worked the same way, counting down from impossibly large years. But at the same time, he didn’t really want to wish such an empty feeling in the gut as he felt constantly every time he glanced down at the strange number. He didn’t want his soulmate to hurt like that if he could help it.</p><p> </p><p>So, the numbers continued and Bakura could do nothing but wait on them, wondering about their reasoning for being so big and wishing something would give to make the numbers less intimidating.</p><p> </p><p>And then he began wishing they would hit zero sooner just so he wouldn’t feel so <em>alone</em>. Eventually, being alone was all he really knew. By the time he hit sixteen, he couldn’t even remember what it had been like to have proper company. Only a wrist filled with numbers no normal human would ever be able to possess.</p><p> </p><p>The sight of his wrist was frustrating; it became a habit just to ignore it, especially since he had other obligations. There was no reason thinking about something that wasn’t going to happen. If he cried sometimes at what he couldn’t have, at what he had truly lost, well, there was no one around to know about it.</p><p> </p><p>Only him and a stupid, worthless, <em>broken</em>, soul mark.</p><p> </p><p>Dying and finding his soul trapped within the ring had rung with an odd moment of clarity, especially when he saw the bright glow of his wrist in the dark of the ring, still counting down to <em>something</em>, someone. The bloody mark wasn’t broken, the Gods were just bloody <em>stupid</em>.</p><p> </p><p>It had been set in stone from the very beginning that he was going to lose to the Pharaoh, he had only had to look at his wrist and see that. Still, the fact that he existed meant he had a chance to fight against the Pharaoh again, maybe even this time with a soulmate.</p><p> </p><p>Bakura frowned, uncomfortable with the unfamiliarity of that, and he would be doing so for a <em>very long time</em>.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Bakura found that thousands of years went by quickly when one wasn’t thinking about it. The hours and minutes and seconds and days and years were slow when he looked at his transparent wrist, so he didn’t do it. Despite being inside an inanimate object, Bakura was still somewhat able to ‘see’ what went on outside of it, though most of the time nothing happened at all. Sometimes it was quiet and empty and <em>miserable</em>, but other times there were voices outside, people murmuring about things that didn’t matter most of the time to a dead man. Then, one day, the voices grew louder and angrier, and Bakura understood there were in-fights within the group of humans being made to service the Pharaoh by protecting the gold items from the outside world.</p><p> </p><p>The smirk on his lips was easy to come by every time this occurred near him. He couldn’t help but laugh with honest mirth at the Pharaoh’s lack of foresight; humans would always be humans, desperate and greedy and all-important. Of course, they would argue over who deserved to carry the burden the Pharaoh had oh so graciously bestowed upon them. It was an honour, you see.</p><p> </p><p>It was almost impressive they managed to hold out for so long; a whole millennium occurred before an empty feeling hit Bakura and he realized with a start that two items had been taken from the tablet and <em>they weren’t coming back</em>. The clan had split up, making it harder to keep track of the items, but they had shortened their numbers and had caused unrest within the remaining clans people; they were disorganized and constantly accusing each other of disloyalty. What a bloody joke.</p><p> </p><p>This was probably why another millennium later, Bakura was stolen from the tablet as well right under their incompetent noses. The other items had managed to be secured, but Bakura had slipped through their fingers, all from his own doing. He might have been trapped in an item he had once used himself, but that did not mean he was incapable of influencing the outside world from within his confinement. He had discovered quirks and talents he possessed now in the years of very little going on; it wasn’t hard turning intangible and slipping out of the hurried grasp of a clan member or making the ring glow pleasantly for the thief to instantly pick up on its importance when they passed by.</p><p> </p><p>He had hoped the thief would put the ring on so he could take control of him, but instead he had been set on course on a boat and sold in another country.</p><p> </p><p>For the first time in who knew how many years, Bakura allowed himself to really look at his wrist instead of glance at it from time to time. The gold read: 3964 years, 302 days, 5 hours, 12 minutes and 33 seconds.</p><p> </p><p>He had plenty of time.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Being a spirit was different than being alive; Bakura had very little reason to follow humanity's way of living since he wasn’t actually alive himself. Instead, Bakura did what he wanted, catching the attention of humans he felt like taking over, eventually finding ways to influence their mind, <em>their greed</em>, to get them to place the ring over their head. Then he’d do whatever with the body he felt like doing, live a spontaneous and consequence-free existence. The Pharaoh had been hidden much trickier than the other items; it could be quite sometime before Bakura could do anything about that. The finer pleasures in life were all he could enjoy till then, not that he was complaining.</p><p> </p><p>Once he had existed for his first millennia, waiting became a non-issue. As long as it eventually happened, he was fine with that. Being trapped in the ring made him antsy to do <em>something</em>, so centuries went by before Bakura realized he was doing more than waiting, he was <em>stalling</em>. Getting distracted. Losing focus.</p><p> </p><p>His soul’s wrist had a new number on it: 2442 years, 112 days, 7 hours, 2 minutes and 52 seconds. If he thought about this logically, there could definitely be a connection between his revenge scheme and his soulmate. He was going to meet this person eventually, but maybe that eventually lead to other, more important eventualities. Maybe even the Pharaoh would be around by then. It was a nice thought.</p><p> </p><p>Still, he should probably be doing something and not <em>someone</em>. It was a good start. Certainly, he had his fun and it was now time to think up a plan that didn’t revolve around what was in the mug being handed to him right now. Whatever it was, it got him drunk enough to forget his train of thought.</p><p> </p><p>When one existed indefinitely, it was easy to lose track of time.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Before Bakura realized it, the year on his wrist slid from a four-digit number to a three-digit one. The body he had been using was covered head to toe in blood and adrenaline coursed through his veins like opium, addictive and delectable. His breath came in sharp and heavy gasps and he grinned, dark and unhinged, but he was shaking, might have been bleeding himself, and the frail body he had been inhabiting collapsed out from under him and he was forced to recuperate in the item hanging loosely from the poor girl’s thin neck. Just another slowly dying body among the corpses already lying there.</p><p> </p><p>The only glow within the dark of his soul room caught his eye easily and it broke him out of his high, enough to make his sinister cackle die down to nothing and the expression on his dirty face, the blood seeping through even to his soul, falling into a straight line, all mirth snuffed out in a second.</p><p> </p><p>999 years, 362 days, 9 hours, 15 minutes and 0 seconds. It had been a three-digit number for a few days now, but Bakura hadn’t known; he had been... preoccupied. Lost in a timeless moment. He had possessed a young woman, seduced a few men, had a jolly good time and before he knew it he had found himself at a crossroad. Sometimes killing seemed like the only option, especially when some group of fancifully dressed men wanted to sell you to prostitution.</p><p> </p><p>It was amazing what type of situation one person could get up to if they played <em>thousands</em> of lives. Bakura honestly had no idea how it had escalated to that. The trusty knife he had been carrying around the last few months hadn’t been too bad in disposing of them though.</p><p> </p><p>Bakura had never thought he’d make it this far. His soul mark had been so impossibly big that he had been certain it would stay that way forever, but the sudden turning to a three-digit number reminded him that that simply wasn’t the case. Time <em>was </em>moving forward; the way the world changed around him at every turn was a fact of that enough, but the numbers, that was even more proof because it told him <em>he </em>was a part of it somehow. Thousands of years doing <em>nothing</em> and it was only now occurring to him that he wasn’t just a part of the scenery, that he mattered to this ever-changing world because someone had the unfortunate destiny to have their soul attached to his; a spirit with very little humanity and absolutely zero emotional connection to anything anymore, working off adrenaline and instinctual desire only.</p><p> </p><p>Bakura snorted and ran his fingers over the carvings. His lips twisted sardonically.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>That poor bastard.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The number to anyone else would be still so big though. His soulmate, whoever they were, wasn’t even born yet, but it felt so much closer; 900 years felt like such a small number to him now. Bakura sometimes blinked and another decade could slip by unnoticed. To him, this was close, it was breathing distance away.</p><p> </p><p>And, given how much time he had to prepare for this, he had exactly zero ideas on how he should react once meeting this person. Bakura had never thought about it because he didn’t think he needed to. Now...</p><p> </p><p>Now he was going to think about it even less.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Soulmates were not important.</p><p> </p><p>That was the first thing Marik's father had really stabbed into him. What mattered was keeping the Pharaoh’s secrets secret and staying underground where it was safe.</p><p> </p><p>Even though his father had told him these things and Marik wanted to believe him, he really did, it didn’t stop Marik from staring in utter wonder at the pretty gold wrapped around his wrist, whispering treacherous promises into his ear. It spoke of the outside world and that might have been why his father wanted him to forget about it; Marik had met almost every person within his clan and yet the numbers were still counting down. That... that probably angered his father.</p><p> </p><p>Most people down here had very short soul mark timers; their special person was down here with them, as they should be. Though sometimes... sometimes they weren’t and people like that tended to die. Either someone would dispose of them in fear that the soul mark would curse the clan... or they would dispose of themselves for the clan. Marik, being the heir, meant neither of those was an option. Maybe his father hoped if Marik didn’t care about the mark enough that destiny would seize to exist.</p><p> </p><p>But Marik cared very much about the mark on his wrist, more so than anything else about him. It was a strong reminder that whatever happened to him down here someone out there would love him and care for him regardless. No matter how terrible the initiation would undoubtedly be, well, at least he had <em>something </em>to look forward to past his tenth birthday.</p><p> </p><p>Marik had become so attuned with his mark that he could estimate the numbers on his wrist to a very close guess. Marik knew no one else who could do that, but then again, he knew no one who cared about soulmates as much as he did.</p><p> </p><p>“Odion! Odion! Look at it! It’s now nine years instead of ten!” Marik held his wrist out proudly to his elder brother, the one person who was in his company almost hourly. The older boy humoured Marik as he always did, bowing his head slightly, a small curve of the corner of his lips blossoming.</p><p> </p><p>“I see, Master Marik. It’s very exciting.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is!” Marik declared. He may still have been young, but he knew how important this was. To him, this was more important than his purpose to his clan; in fact, it was the only thing keeping him from crushing under the pressure of such a purpose. “We should celebrate! Where’s Ishizu? I want her there too!”</p><p> </p><p>“Ishizu has duties she needs to attend to, Master Marik. You know this. In fact, forgive me for questioning you, but shouldn’t you be studying? Father would be most displeased.”</p><p> </p><p>Marik’s whole face fell. He hated studying, not because he wasn’t good at it, but because it was <em>boring</em>. His father made him relearn things over and over again. Marik could probably recite their whole clan’s history in his sleep, as well as the partner clan his clan had departed from millennia ago. He knew it <em>all</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Oooodddiooooon, I don’t wanna! Can’t we give it a rest for one day? I promise to study extra hard tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>He was certain it was a great bribe, but Odion shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>“What would your soulmate think if they knew you were skipping out on valuable teachings?”</p><p> </p><p>Marik decided to fall in line; there had to be some truth in what Odion said. He didn’t want to disappoint his soulmate for whatever reason... or allow his father to find more reason to punish Odion for something he had done.</p><p> </p><p>His soulmate would be coming soon anyway; in 9 years, 364 days, 18 hours, 52 minutes and 4 seconds.</p><p> </p><p>Even if he wasn’t allowed to celebrate it the way he wanted to, he’d do it secretly. His soulmate deserved the world and though Marik didn’t have the world to give right now, he had a strong feeling one day he’d at least be able to <em>try</em>. Till then, a small party away from prying eyes would be enough for now.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It was approaching his tenth birthday when Marik began calculating how old he would be when there would be a lot more happiness in his life. It took a few tries, but he came to the conclusion he’d be sixteen. Six years and several months after this dreadful day and he’d meet them. Someone who would just <em>get him</em> in a way no one else would, in a way even Odion wouldn’t be able to. With the fear slowly sinking him down to the bottom of the ocean, this reminder was his poor attempt at a raft.</p><p> </p><p>At the moment it didn’t matter how close those numbers were, he would still have to take the initiation; he wouldn’t be the same after it. Who was to say his soulmate would even want him after that...?</p><p> </p><p>Marik glared so hard at his wrist that his head hurt. Maybe his heart hurt too. It was hard to hold on to hope when a different much more invisible clock was ticking to his doom. Like the clock on his wrist, Marik could estimate it well; an internal clock ticking by sharply like the ghost of a knife against his skin.</p><p> </p><p>It wouldn’t be a ghost for much longer.</p><p> </p><p>Not for the first time, Marik wondered where his mystery soulmate might be; he couldn’t blame them for not being here, it wasn’t like they knew where to look for him or had the power to speed up the timer. Maybe they were enjoying their life as it was without him or maybe they were equally miserable. He found depending on his mood one sounded better to him than the other.</p><p> </p><p>The wait was killing him, it really was. So many others his age already knew theirs. It felt unfair to have to wait six-plus more years to see his.</p><p> </p><p>But not a lot in Marik’s life had ever seemed particularly fair.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Four years. He had four years, yet he was <em>outside</em>. It was stupid, but Marik wanted to start looking for his soulmate anyway. He knew logically they wouldn’t be here, but that didn’t stop his heart. He scratched at his arm a little desperately, wishing the clock would change, wishing he had some control over this to change the numbers through trial and error, but no, they stayed stubbornly as they wanted to be, ticking slow and steady to a person four years in the future.</p><p> </p><p>Marik wished he was there, but right now was good too. He had never seen so many interesting people and stuff in one place before.</p><p> </p><p>Seeing the outside world made him wonder what outside world his soulmate was looking at right now. What were they doing? What were they thinking about? Did they like the way the sun felt on their skin as much as Marik did?</p><p> </p><p>...Did they have a comic book like this one?</p><p> </p><p>Marik tilted the book sideways, mouth slightly open. There was something at the corner of his mind, something insistent when he looked at this. Abruptly, and it was also only very briefly, the thought that his soulmate might take part in something like this flashed in his mind. If they did take part in something like this... they would be far from innocent.</p><p> </p><p>Marik’s arm was suddenly grabbed and he met the desperate look in his sister’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Marik, please don’t flaunt your yaoi in public.”</p><p> </p><p>Marik opened his mouth, but nothing came out because Ishizu was already pulling him back in the direction of ‘home’. His insides protested, something dark slid against his mind, a part of himself that grew antsy at being locked up again. He stayed silent, tried to pretend he wasn’t slipping and reminded himself that he would one day be out here again; his soul mark told him so.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Hey...” a soft voice murmured, the owner of the voice staring listlessly at his socked covered feet as they swung idly. “Voice in my head... do you have a soulmate?”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura didn’t answer. He only spoke when he wanted to. He wasn’t here to entertain a prepubescent child. A child who knew very little about him to begin with and only <em>thought</em> he was talking to a ghost.</p><p> </p><p>Ryou sighed, shoulders slumping.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry. I guess that’s a stupid question. A ghost has very little need for that now, do they? They’re dead.” Ryou paused. “Father thinks I’m going mad from grief, talking to myself like this, but I know what I hear sometimes, what I <em>see</em> sometimes. I’m haunted... just by the wrong ghost.”</p><p> </p><p>Ryou’s mother and sister had died several years back. Ryou, if Bakura could guess, was probably so hung up on soulmates and ghosts having soulmates simply because his sister had died before meeting hers. Bakura could potentially clear that up, he was living proof that ghosts could still very much one day meet their soulmates, but Bakura had no reason to reveal himself to his host, so once again, he remained silent.</p><p> </p><p>Still, staring at his own arm told him he had very little time now and it <em>showed</em>. He had met with a soul that felt like his own, there was a prickling in the air that told him the Pharaoh was coming very soon, and his soul mark glowed a count down that seemed to line very much with these events. Any day now and everything might come together all around the same time.</p><p> </p><p>It was... interesting. Distracting and buggeringly annoying too, but by now he had come to terms with it. He couldn’t do anything about it and... he had found overtime that he was fine with that. He... wanted to meet this soulmate. He felt he deserved to know who they were, especially after waiting so long.</p><p> </p><p>“I know you’re there,” Ryou spoke up again, sounding way more confident than any kid really had the right to be. Ryou was certainly no wimp and he was persistent. A personality that was harder to mould than others; when it came time to manipulate Ryou he’d have to be craftier.</p><p> </p><p>“I know you’re there but... I understand why you don’t say anything. I’ll wait.”</p><p> </p><p>He wouldn’t be waiting for very long. There were only four more years ticking on Bakura’s wrist and Bakura knew, if little went on, they would be gone in no time. Then waiting wouldn’t be an issue anymore.</p><p> </p><p>For someone who had been waiting for such a long time, that realization was almost unfathomable.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Marik had imagined many scenarios of how meeting his soulmate would transpire. While heading to Domino City those ideas circled his mind incessantly, reminding him every two seconds that the countdown on his wrist was down to <em>days</em> now; he was moments away from what he’d always craved, a companion who was made to be beside him. A companion who wasn’t there just because Marik had their mind in his imaginary grasp. An actual friend would be nice right now, considering Marik didn’t have one of those. Just mind slaves and a brother who still thought he was a servant.</p><p> </p><p>Marik traced his fingers over his wrist, sucking on his bottom lip in both anticipation and nerves. This person... he had placed a bit too high on a pedestal because of his lack of healthy interaction with anyone else in his life. He hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed because of this, but he highly doubted it would be a possibility. He was already in love with whoever was connected to this mark; he would probably fall further in love on sight alone.</p><p> </p><p>It was probably dangerous to be this adoring toward someone he hadn’t met, but Marik really couldn’t help it. Not only had he obsessed over this mark almost his whole life, but ever since the initiation the mysterious person he was attached to became an even greater prospect in Marik’s life. It was a promise, something he could hold on to when his mind got a little fuzzy. It was what Marik had stared at for days, hardly blinking, as he lay on his stomach, bedridden and in pain, both physically and mentally. The numbers had held a certain comfort that had kept him grounded and recovering faster than he would have without it, but it also had the unfortunate side effect of making his whole life revolve around it passing the point of obsession.</p><p> </p><p>Marik, despite his accomplishments, didn’t have a lot going for him. His one goal, having revenge on the Pharaoh, was something he did want, but his soulmate was somebody even more important; if Marik had to choose he’d pick the soulmate, but it would be nice if they could do it together...</p><p> </p><p>Actually, doing anything with his soulmate would be nice. They could do nothing at all and it would still be the most important moment in Marik’s entire life. He’d document every second of it, holding it in his heart like the precious thing it most certainly was.</p><p> </p><p>But, first, this person needed to show up. They needed to<em> like</em> him (an impossible feat apparently, if his inability to form real connections was anything to go by) and he needed to convince them doing nothing together was worth his soulmate’s time.</p><p> </p><p>A soulmate was important and Marik was going to treat it as such.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Less than an hour was left on Marik’s wrist, shining under the light of the sun as he strapped on his motorcycle helmet. He went through the motion thoughtlessly. His brows were furrowed and he wasn’t thinking about the mark this time. He had just recently lost against the Pharaoh, big time, and by doing so had lost one of the God cards. His mind was working overtime, considering his limited options and wondering if there had perhaps been an alternative to his previous plan he could have implemented and saved himself the struggle of losing such an important card.</p><p> </p><p><em>Oh, I know</em>, Marik suddenly realized, shoulders falling and eyes shutting, <em>I should have made a duplicate to Slifer just as I did for Ra. That way, the Pharaoh would have a faulty, illegal card and he’d be forced to disqualify. Or maybe I shouldn’t have given that Steve so much power in the first place...</em></p><p> </p><p>Frowning heavily and feeling extremely let down, Marik tried to remind himself that he not only had other options, ways to turn the tables, but that there was still plenty of time and opportunities left to succeed. Besides, he had his motorcycle and it was hard for him to ever be truly upset on a motorcycle.</p><p> </p><p>So, he brightened, started up the engine and set on course, ironically unaware of how close he was to appear before the person he had been so desperate to meet.</p><p> </p><p>Bakura, on the other hand, had the nails of his fingers pressed firmly into the palms of his hands, a cold glare telling passerby to hurry on their way and not to disturb the clearly disgruntled boy. He was searching, he knew he was searching, but he also knew that time was finally ticking down to zero at a rapid pace that was by now making him dizzy. All he wanted to do right now was find the source of the power his ring had picked up, either gay or another millennium item, he honestly wasn’t sure, but he hadn’t found it yet, which implied... something. A correlation: a one plus one equals two scenario.</p><p> </p><p>Bakura gritted his teeth and stopped. He breathed slowly, staring numbly down at the sidewalk. There was an odd skipping in his chest, some sort of uncertainty he didn’t like. To think this was how it would happen, just so <em>mundanely</em>, after everything that had happened before today. He expected something grander for someone who had had the impossible number of 5000+ years on his wrist when he had been born.</p><p> </p><p>Did most people obsess over it the closer the timer came to its end? The anxiety and panic that seized Bakura made him want to go back to the days when the numbers meant nothing to him, when the years had been huge and imposing and made it so easy for him to lose himself to the sands of time; everything had been so meaningless back then and maybe it still was somehow, but this event taking place was making him feel trapped. This was normal, all of this was normal, except Bakura had forgone normal millennia ago and all of this, if it wanted to happen, should have happened <em>then</em>. It would have made this moment easier, less startling to the senses.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t want a soulmate, he had only wanted revenge. They both couldn’t coexist, could they?</p><p> </p><p>The ring picked up suddenly, pointing to Bakura’s right and an odd sound could be heard from that direction. A motor, perhaps? Whatever it was, it was coming in fast and dangerous and was definitely the source he was tracking.</p><p> </p><p>Without thinking, Bakura sprinted across the road and slid through the gap between buildings leading to a wide alleyway. There he saw a motorcycle in which he immediately jumped in front of, determined to stop the source behind his ring’s attention in any means necessary, arms outstretched and mouth drawn thin. He stared the motorcycle down, pleased as the person on it braked and swerved, dirt kicking up at the abrupt action. Once parked, they took off their helmet in a fit, annoyance clear on a shockingly pretty face.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Bakura was way more interested in that than in his initial reasoning for jumping in front of the boy in the first place. He had never been particularly good at prioritizing once a pretty boy became part of the equation; always a hormonal teenager no matter how many years passed.</p><p> </p><p>The boy opened his mouth to say something, probably to demand to know what Bakura was thinking, running in front of a motorcycle like that. Whatever it was he was going to say, it died in his throat the second their eyes met. The boy’s eyes widened and his hands tightened on the bars of his motorcycle.</p><p> </p><p>Bakura had no idea what the boy was feeling, but he felt his own soul light up suddenly and he bit his tongue, his arms shaking under the strange vibration of it. Considering all that was left of him was just a soul, he might have felt it a little stronger than the boy, but still, the boy obviously felt it too.</p><p> </p><p>Especially since he was now looking very intently at his arm; an arm that should have been glowing but was now strangely vacant. Bakura could tell the boy was practically shaking with adrenaline and realized he couldn’t leave this open-ended. The body that Bakura inhabited did not have a soul mark either, but that was because Ryou had the unfortunate destiny to be caged to Yugi bloody Mutou; it had been like that for a while now. The boy didn’t have the knowledge that he wasn’t the real body’s owner and he could very easily pretend to be so, but something was making him tilt toward explaining this. He searched the boy with narrowed eyes and only then realized the millennium item sitting comfortably in his lap.</p><p> </p><p>Well, okay, that made things a little bit easier.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello.” He quirked his lips up and dropped his arms to his sides, tilting his head slightly and lowering his eyelids as he spoke. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Bakura, the spirit that resides in the millennium ring.” He eyed the boy closely as he let his explanation sink in. Then, after the wait, he smirked. “You must be the gay energy I’ve been tracking.”</p><p> </p><p>That got the boy’s immediate attention; he tensed and stood abruptly from his motorcycle, holding his rod protectively to his chest. Bakura allowed himself to be distracted by it; he hadn’t seen it in such a long time, yet it looked well cared for, almost as though the boy had been taught professionally how to handle it. If Bakura had to guess, he thought himself correct in that assumption. There were markings under the boy’s eyes, something Bakura recognized from his days with the tomb keepers.</p><p> </p><p>“Th-That’s—” The boy cleared his throat, eyes moving quickly as he thought over what was occurring right now. He must have come to some sort of conclusion because his posture softened and he studied Bakura silently. Then, “I’m Marik. I’m in love with you.”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura actually took a step back, cheeks, as much as he hated it, instantly growing red at such a simple and honest confession. Whatever Bakura had entertained over this meeting, being told such a childish declaration was not one of them.</p><p> </p><p>Marik, seeming to realize what he had said and how it was being received, waved his hands in front of himself, the rod still held in one of them.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, wait, that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to say...! Well, it was, but I wanted to say it less, you know, <em>creepy</em>. I don’t even know you! Actually, I do, kind of, I mean, your soul feels OLD, like, really old. Not wrinkle old, of course, no that’s not what I meant! I meant like how an ancient deity would feel like! It gave me chills. The good kind, of course. Did I feel like anything?”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura blinked slowly.</p><p> </p><p>“You talk too much.”</p><p> </p><p>Marik faltered; it was only a moment before he brightened again, but Bakura saw it anyway, probably because his soulmate had such vivid expressions.</p><p> </p><p>“Um, haha, sorry. I’ll stop.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re too bright and demand to be heard. Your soul has a certain pressure to it. You wouldn’t let me go if I tried, would you?”</p><p> </p><p>Marik looked confused and went to speak, but Bakura cut him off, stalking toward his soulmate with new intrigue in his expression. Marik was right to ask such a question; now that Bakura was actually thinking about it, it was amazing how strong Marik’s soul was to make Bakura’s own soul rumble and tremble under it. Bakura’s soul was old, far too lasting to be bothered by anything, and Marik’s soul was young, yet it toppled him over effortlessly.</p><p> </p><p>“What is your purpose?”</p><p> </p><p>Marik broke out of a trance he had apparently fallen under during Bakura’s approach of him, blushing slightly. He glanced at the rod in his hand, mouthing something under his breath.</p><p> </p><p>“My purpose...? Um, well, I’m here to rid the world of the Pharaoh once and for all and maybe play a card game or two!” Marik shook his free fist, then paused to glance quickly in Bakura’s direction before continuing. “Why are you here? Other than, you know, soulmate related reasons.”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura smirked and crossed his arms, leaning to one side as he observed Marik.</p><p> </p><p>“I told you that already. I came to find the source of my millennium ring’s disturbance. It found you.” Then he shook his head, suddenly finding humour within such a collision. “Oh, the Gods were clever with this one. Of course, I’d only be interested <em>this</em> way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmmm?” Marik tapped the rod briefly against his cheek thoughtfully, his eyes roaming over Bakura’s form quickly, drinking him in. Then he let out a breath, eyes lighting with memory. “Oh, wait, I’m definitely supposed to be doing something. Something evil. Do you want to join me?”</p><p> </p><p>It was said plainly, but there might have been some hesitance behind the words. Bakura had to admire Marik’s courage; the boy didn’t take his gaze off him despite his clear nerves. Bakura rewarded him for it. He raised his eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you have in mind?”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>He was gorgeous.</p><p> </p><p>Not just physically, though that was definitely the case too. His soul, his personality, his mannerisms, the way he presented himself; it blended all together to make the perfect being. Marik was floored such a flawless creation could even possibly exist. Surely, he wasn’t allowed to have the spirit standing idly beside him. There must have been a mistake. The Gods were supposed to hate him.</p><p> </p><p>“There they are,” Bakura whispered, sounding far too close, the British accent rumbling in a way Marik could physically feel. It made his toes curl and a sharp tingle shoot down his back. “I knew they would be here. Bunch of directionless fools, but they do have patterns.”</p><p> </p><p>Marik stared at Bakura’s face, the soft curves and dips within it, and opened his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re so pretty.”</p><p> </p><p>Marik was hit with instant humiliation. Usually, he was better at keeping <em>those </em>thoughts, the gay ones, to himself, but with his soulmate so close, at touching distance and looking and smelling so nice, it was like his entire wall of defence was crumbling as he stood. He wished he had the power to turn back time so he could say something less incriminating and foolish.</p><p> </p><p>Bakura paused with his mouth open and turned his sharp brown eyes on Marik, making him feel even worse. They were supposed to be working on something Marik could already tell meant a lot to Bakura and Marik was ruining it by hitting on him. What was Bakura going to think of him now?</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, a smirk slipped on to Bakura’s visage and he chuckled, leaning closer to Marik. The heavy atmosphere that filled the area startled Marik and his breath shortened.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, is that so? How surprising. I was just thinking the same thing about you.”</p><p> </p><p>Marik fumbled with his mouth, opening and closing it a few times. He felt the warmth of his cheeks and the sweat forming on his palms and he wondered how he could be acting this way. Marik had had more than his fair share of people flirting with him before, but hearing Bakura do it set his whole body on overdrive. Bakura already had a strong power over him and they had just met.</p><p> </p><p>Bakura looked reluctant now when he glanced at the Pharaoh’s friends. He sighed.</p><p> </p><p>“I want to help you get closer. Because of how dumb they are, I’m sure you’ll convince them fine about you being friendly, so don’t worry about that. The only problem is...”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“...I’d rather show you my host’s bedroom. It has a very nice bed. Perfect for relieving some tension on.”</p><p> </p><p>“O-Oh?” Marik wanted to pretend like he didn’t know what was being said to him. “That’s a nice offer, Bakura, but we should probably do this first. You can show me the bedroom later.”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura frowned at him and Marik felt guilty. Was rejecting your soulmate’s clear advances wrong after an hour of knowing them?</p><p> </p><p>Bakura sighed.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re right. Let’s get this over with then.”</p><p> </p><p>And Bakura shocked Marik when he pulled out a knife, raising the sleeve of his shirt and brandishing it before the exposed arm. Marik grabbed his wrist before he could attempt to do anything, eyes wide in terror.</p><p> </p><p>“No! W-What are you doing?”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura rolled his eyes, pulling his wrist out of Marik’s grip and staring at him like he thought Marik a moron.</p><p> </p><p>“We need to get their attention somehow. You said you wanted to capture them and use them against the Pharaoh, right? Well, this is the way to do it. Trust me on this.”</p><p> </p><p>Marik shook his head, panic seeping in from the sight of a knife near the skin of his soulmate, memories of pain surfacing in him like a toxic gas he couldn’t escape from. His breathing was growing laboured. This couldn’t happen.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, Bakura,” he tried to reason, hoping his smile was charming enough to change Bakura’s mind, “there are other options, right? Do you really need to hurt yourself? Can’t you just pretend?”</p><p> </p><p>“It has to be authentic. Something that would send me straight to the hospital. Pretending could backfire.”</p><p> </p><p>“Th-Then.” Marik swallowed. “Then maybe think of something less violent?”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura stared at him for a few moments. That smirk twisted his lips again.</p><p> </p><p>“What? Do you want me to have a long wank that cramps my hand then? That might take a while, but it <em>could</em> work. It’ll fit your sensibilities on me hurting myself too badly.”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura sounded like he was joking, but Marik felt relieved anyway. He didn’t know what ‘wank’ meant, but it had to be better than stabbing his arm to a bleeding pulpy mess.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, exactly, do that instead!”</p><p> </p><p>“You want me to...” Bakura paused, incredulous amazement on his face. “You want me to wank off? Right here, in the middle of an alleyway? You’re kidding, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Marik was starting to lose some confidence at Bakura’s disbelieve. He hesitated.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean if you want to. I guess it doesn’t matter what I think.”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura looked thoughtful. He seemed to be considering Marik’s words. He tilted his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Would you be willing to take your shirt off for me?”</p><p> </p><p>That was a strange request, but it wasn’t like Marik was self-conscious about his appearance. He was barely wearing a shirt to begin with. The air was warm—though not anywhere near as warm as Egypt—and a sliver of sunlight leaked into the darker alleyway to bathe parts of Marik’s skin. Bakura licked his lips. He looked like he was concentrating very hard.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that’ll do.” A pause. “Watch me.”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura leaned against the wall, widening his legs slightly. Marik kept his eyes on him, the slight murmur of the Pharaoh's friends' voices only being heard if he strained his ears. They were far enough away. Whatever Bakura was about to do, they probably wouldn’t see or hear. That thought entered his mind, only to be halted by a familiar yet unfamiliar sight.</p><p> </p><p>A man palming his crotch against a wall, staring straight at him.</p><p> </p><p>A strangled yelp startled out of Marik and, not knowing what else to do, he promptly adverted his eyes as though to give Bakura privacy on this abrupt personal session with his body.</p><p> </p><p>“W-What? Bak—”</p><p> </p><p>“I told you to watch me.” He could hear the annoyance in Bakura’s tone; no trace of arousal yet. “If you’re uninterested it’ll be like wanking off to a blank wall. Indulge my fantasies of indecency, Marik, and <em>watch me.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Marik swallowed. So, he may have made some miscalculations on what a British term meant. He didn’t want this... but if they didn’t do this, Bakura would go back to the first plan and Marik <em>definitely </em>didn’t want that. Maybe he was just dumb, but it seemed like this might be the only option here.</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t do this out here,” Marik said, surprised at how low his voice was. He glanced nervously out the opening of the alleyway and noticed that people were infrequently passing by. Frig, if Bakura was caught doing stuff like this outside he’d get arrested. He looked back at Bakura, skeptical. “Is this really going to work?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll make it work,” Bakura said, eyelids slipping lower and mouth slightly open. “Use yourself as cover.”</p><p> </p><p>Marik bit his lip, but he was worried and still high from that moment his eyes met with Bakura’s and his body felt hot like a heatwave. Marik stumbled forward and shielded Bakura’s own from outside viewers, placing his hands on either side of Bakura’s head and staring uncertainly at his face. He tilted his body slightly, leaving more space on the other side of Bakura so he could keep the movements of the spirit’s hand out of sight from the side closest to the alley.</p><p> </p><p>They were a lot closer now which made Marik feel... uncomfortable and weird and what he imagined the men in his yaoi must feel when faced with a sudden sexual situation they hadn’t planned for. He strongly decided he wouldn’t look down; he’d alternate his attention on the opening of the alley and Bakura’s face, the latter of which would be harder to approach the longer this went on, Marik just knew it.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re close now,” Bakura said for him. A small barely heard sigh slipped out of him. “Can I touch you? I know we decided on just looking, but...”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura’s words hung in the air. Marik wondered how this was happening. He should stop this considering how he had declined Bakura’s advance on him earlier, but this was different, right? They were doing it for a good cause and Marik didn’t even have to do anything other than stand here. In a sense, he might as well have been another wall.</p><p> </p><p>“S-Sure.” Marik swallowed. He added quickly, “Only what’s exposed.”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura didn’t seem upset at that little detail, in fact, he lit up. His free hand roamed the right side of Marik’s chest, over firm muscle and smooth skin, and Marik watched his eyes flutter. Marik felt like Bakura’s touch was branding him; was this what a simple touch from a soulmate was meant to do to you? Marik should have read more books about this, but he was a slow reader and got distracted easily; he had never gotten around to them. Now he was regretting that.</p><p> </p><p>Marik was looking down now instead of where he promised himself he’d keep his eyes trained. Bakura hadn’t gotten himself out yet, but Marik could see the bump this close and it put him in an out of body experience temporarily. This was not what he expected would happen today. Did Bakura have to keep grabbing the outline of himself like that? It was making Marik restless.</p><p> </p><p>He licked his lips and said before he thought it through, “Do you want me to undo it for you?”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura grabbed at his exposed shoulder, thumbing over Marik’s throat where he could feel Marik’s Adam's apple bobbing. It made Marik feel constricted in.</p><p> </p><p>“Please.”</p><p> </p><p>So then he had his hands on Bakura’s waist and undoing his pants, nervous energy making him miss every once in a while. He tried to do it without bringing his hands too close to the bulge, but he could still feel it rub against a knuckle. He wasn’t going to forget that feeling, was he? He pushed Bakura’s pants to the side, hoping to give Bakura more room, but paused at the underwear he was wearing.</p><p> </p><p>“Are those little kitties?” Marik asked, excitement of a different kind hitting him. The underwear was black with small white kitten faces and paws on them. “Where did you get these? They’re so cute, Bakura.”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura scowled at him, cheeks turning red in embarrassment. Nails dug into his shoulder but it didn’t hurt; it only made Marik shiver.</p><p> </p><p>“Bugger off, I don’t have any control over what my host puts on the body. I didn’t wear them on purpose!”</p><p> </p><p>Marik just hummed happily. He wasn’t even bothered by the feelings he was getting from the more obvious bulge behind the cats. Bakura was proving to be even more perfect and wonderful than what Marik first thought. Thoughts of Bakura spread out underneath him in just that underwear danced in his brain and Marik realized belatedly he’d probably be revisiting that fantasy once he was alone and not hovering over the real Bakura who was doing <em>sex things</em> in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>Marik looked away, but Bakura pushed his head back. He was looking at Bakura’s face and he knew the moment a hand was wrapped around him because his eyes darkened and expression grew lax. Marik didn’t know what to do, but he tried to keep his mouth shut and not trail his gaze down to what was going on between them. Thoughts bounced around in his head, but he lost track of them the moment Bakura began to pant and mewl, cheeks growing a lovely shade of red.</p><p> </p><p>“You have such a pale face. It makes you look like a tomato when you blush like that.”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura’s brows furrowed and Marik almost died on the spot. If he was going to say something, he should have said something <em>sexy. </em>Even so, saying it like that made it seem like he was insulting Bakura. That was even worse!</p><p> </p><p>“S-Sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—! An actual tomato wouldn’t be sexy, but you pull it off! Or, no, that’s not right, that’s worse... Um, your red face reminds me of a tomato, but it isn’t a tomato because you’re pretty and erotic. Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura was now looking at him like he truly believed Marik to be on the lower end of the IQ scale. Marik panicked and did something he was surely going to regret.</p><p> </p><p>He surged forward and pressed his lips to Bakura’s.</p><p> </p><p>Bakura made a surprised sound. He didn’t push Marik away, but he wished Bakura did because Marik didn’t know how to kiss and he was pretty certain he’d rather continue ruining the mood—Bakura’s mood, not his—by talking instead of wrongful kisses. This was even more nerve-racking, but at least he wouldn’t be tempted to watch Bakura’s hand moving over his erection. He might start feeling tempted to touch himself if he did that. He didn’t want to fall down that trap.</p><p> </p><p><em>Just</em>—<em>just move your mouth against his, kinda like you’re eating something. His mouth. You’re eating his mouth. Hmm, it’s tasty. </em></p><p> </p><p>Luckily for Marik, Bakura could not hear his thoughts. He was afraid that he would not be able to hide how weird he was to Bakura though; he was always like this. Marik suspected his out of control word vomit was what tended to chase people away from him. Hopefully, Bakura wouldn’t be one of those people; he was Marik’s last hope for happiness.</p><p> </p><p>Bakura clearly knew how to kiss and it made Marik embarrassed with his own lacking talents. He kept pausing and confusing one movement with another and missing Bakura’s mouth sometimes and frig, he must be the worst kisser Bakura had ever had the misfortune of participating with. Maybe if Marik wasn’t so sexually repressed, he might have succeeded better at this. Got some practice in... </p><p> </p><p>He’d been trying to keep the building sounds in his throat to himself, pulling back to swallow them down when he took in a breath, while Bakura kept making all sorts of pretty sounds that kept making Marik’s pelvis unconsciously thrust at nothing but the restrictions of his pants. He refused to step closer to Bakura and give into the idea of more substantial friction. As long as he didn’t do anything weird and cum too, he wasn’t gay. Sure, he was in love with Bakura, but that was natural since he was his soulmate. And the fantasies in his head were <em>explicit, </em>the kind where two men—</p><p> </p><p>Well, it didn’t matter. Thinking of that would just further, uh, <em>bother </em>him. Either way, a fantasy or two didn’t mean you were gay. Probably.</p><p> </p><p>Bakura suddenly latched onto his bottom lip, sucking, and it shocked a sound out of Marik before he could stop himself, moaning in guilty pleasure. And after that it was a lot harder to keep his sounds down. Bakura had the tongue of a pro and the sounds of a perky porn star under his belt; there was no hope for his poor virgin self.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know how long he was doing this, keeping his mouth shut and teasing himself into a frustrating humping-at-air haze, but eventually Bakura pulled away, head bumping against the wall and hair fanning out and sticking to the surface from static, his eyes glazed over and mouth wet and bruised. Marik hadn’t been aware of how loud Bakura’s moans were until they weren’t interrupted. The sounds and Bakura’s face made Marik’s knees shake, a whine making itself known whether Marik liked it or not. Gods, he was so hard.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you.” Marik breathed in like a gasp. “Y-Your mouth—<em>You’re divine.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura made a little growling sound and Marik moaned in distress. He wanted to bat Bakura’s fingers away from his erect nipple—it was sensitive and tingly and made him wish Bakura was touching something else—but he couldn’t bring himself to deny the wandering touch. His cock pulsed with his heartbeat ringing in his ears and he ached terribly<em>. </em></p><p> </p><p>And then, because he apparently had lost his mind, he did the terrible mistake of looking down.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh boy, oh frig, that’s the most attractive penis I’ve ever seen. All wet and glistening and pink and needy and the white patch of hair above it. Oh frigging hell, my Gods, this is so different up close. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Marik watched Bakura squeeze and tug at himself, putting his whole wrist in it in a clear attempt to hurt himself in the process. Pre-cum was slipping slowly out of the head and Bakura was using it to make his hand slip better over himself, granting a noticeable squelching sound that Marik strangely felt. Marik stared intently at the scene before him and guiltily began to feel the ghost of the movements on his own dick. He leaned his forehead against Bakura’s shoulder, hips gyrating despite himself.</p><p> </p><p>“B-Bakura, mmm.”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura’s free hand slipped up to curl in his hair. Bakura moaned.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t think you’d be this into it. You’re practically falling over yourself in arousal and I’m only masturbating and sharing kisses with you. Are you a virgin, love?”</p><p> </p><p>Marik chose not to answer, thinking his kisses were enough of an answer on that one. Instead, he finally allowed himself the respite, not being able to handle it anymore, and hoped he wasn’t overstepping a boundary.</p><p> </p><p>“Y-You’re close, right, Bakura?”</p><p> </p><p>He thought Bakura might be. Maybe it was in the way he was performing down there or the shaking desperate sounds echoing in Marik’s ears, but he was certain he was right.</p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yes, oh, yes.” Bakura pulled on his hair and Marik swallowed at the strange treatment. It tingled and burned at the same time; felt a bit like a rough kiss, but he was pretty certain it was because Bakura was doing it that he liked it. “Very close.”</p><p> </p><p>Marik nodded. Then—then it was okay. Just to help finish Bakura off, that’s all.</p><p> </p><p>Marik slid his body closer to Bakura’s. The warmth of Bakura’s soft and welcoming thigh against the desperation in his pants might as well have been a gift directly sent to him from the Gods above. He was moving into a steady roll of his hips before he could decide if he was doing the right thing or not. He tilted his head back and practically sobbed out a relieved moan. <em>Oh, thank Ra, this </em><em><b>friction</b></em><em>...</em></p><p> </p><p>Bakura cried out after him, sounding quite pleased at this sudden event, thank goodness, so Marik took that to mean he was free to keep going for it. He steadied himself by placing one hand on the wall beside Bakura’s head and the other slid down to Bakura’s hip, squeezing slightly. Lastly, he slid his gaze between Bakura’s penis and face, wanting to watch both at the same time and hating that he couldn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Bakura was using his free hand to keep himself up now too, moaning so heavily that Marik wondered why nobody—especially the Pharaoh's friends—hadn’t investigated yet. Marik’s breathing was picking up, but he kept himself attentive to Bakura. He slipped his hand up Bakura’s side and under his loose shirt, pinching at the closest nipple and rubbing between his fingers. Bakura arched into him.</p><p> </p><p>“Marik, Marik, <em>oooooohhhh...</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura shook, eyes shutting and coming with a hefty pleasured filled moan that sent shivers all over Marik’s body. He buried his face in Bakura’s hair, hips stuttering and quaking, and wrapped his arms around Bakura, coming as quietly as he possibly could under the circumstances. It was a contrast to Bakura, who was still making sounds far after his orgasm without a single care for decency to be shown.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s the best wank I’ve had in my life. This soulmate thing is going to work out just fine,” Bakura said to him when both of them had calmed down and Marik could actually look at him again.</p><p> </p><p>Marik sucked in a breath. Considering how old Bakura was, that was a pretty high compliment. That meant Marik was shaping up to be a soulmate worth Bakura’s splendour. The utter relief that ran through him when he realized that. He couldn’t even think to be anxious about this. Bakura liked it, he liked it. They were soulmates, this was fine.</p><p> </p><p>“So... so how’s your hand? Does it hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital?”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura smirked.</p><p> </p><p>“Probably not, but if I turn it into a deadly foreign condition, I think I can get away with it. I’m looking forward to the morphine.” He suddenly reached out and caressed Marik’s cheek, making his eyes widen and heart quicken. “I mean it. This was fun. You’re an odd one, but I think I like you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Th-Thanks, I try.”</p><p> </p><p>Bakura’s smirk widened.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure you do. Anyway—” Bakura began tucking himself in, making Marik blush as he had forgotten about that— “we’ll probably have to find them again, but let’s do this.”</p><p> </p><p>“R-Right.” Marik nodded. “Let’s do this.”</p>
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